6

I guess this is the beginning of our super miraculous journey

Because of all the excitement churning in my belly, I woke up really early. I tried staying in bed but there was no way I was getting back to sleep. I packed my best boxer shorts into my bag. I remember thinking that the next time I put them on I would have met Alan Froggley. Interestingly, the first men’s underwear worn 7,000 years ago (!) took the form of the leather loincloth. We don’t wear leather underwear anymore because the immense sweat buildup wasn’t fun for anybody’s nether regions.

I tiptoed past the living room, which Dad had claimed as his bedroom ever since his accident. He was on the couch, snoring, his face illuminated by the blue glow from the TV. I knew I should have breakfast even though I was feeling excited-sick. I picked up a box of Pop-Tarts but put them back when I remembered Grams’s letter and opted for Shredded Wheat instead.

Just after seven o’clock I reckoned it would be okay to head over to the bus stop near Ben’s. I didn’t know whether to wake Dad or not. I stood over him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful. I wanted to wrap my arms around him like I used to when I was little. It was quite a nice moment until he suddenly bolted upright and swung at me with one of his crutches. I was so surprised I peed a little in my boxers.

I screamed. He screamed. We both screamed.

“Fred! What the hell are you doing? I thought you were an intruder!”

“I was watching you sleep!”

“Holy smoke, why were you doing that, son? You could have given me a heart attack.”

“You’re the one wielding your crutch!”

“Fred, watching someone sleep is just plain creepy. Don’t do it again.”

He had a point.

“I came to say goodbye. I’m off to Ben’s.”

He rubbed his stubble. Every day he was looking more and more crusty. “What time is it?”

“Just after seven.”

“For the love of all things bright and beautiful, Fred. What’re you doing up so early?”

“It’s not that early.”

“It is for me.”

He was right about that. He hadn’t been up much before eleven most mornings since he was laid off from work. “When’re you back?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

He stretched out his arms and did a huge yawn that sounded like an angry dinosaur. Dad always does these really noisy yawns. “Be a good boy, make me a cup of tea before you go.”

I gave Dad his tea and he told me Mom would be proud. I didn’t need to write that in my book though, because I already had it down. Dad drinks a lot of tea. In fact, I only ever see him drink one of two liquids—tea or soda.

“I’ll see you later then, Dad.”

“Have fun. Behave yourself.”

I paused in the doorway. The moment didn’t feel quite big enough somehow. “I love you. And I promise I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, okay?”

Dad’s forehead went all crinkly. “Everything alright, Fred?”

Maybe I’d said too much. I was only supposed to be going to Ben’s. I thought I might have given the game away, but then he said, “Sorry, of course it’s not alright. I know how much you miss your Grams. And it’s not going to be much of a summer for you with me laid up like this.”

I had to squeeze my lips together to stop myself from blurting out that I was sneaking off to Wales in search of Alan Froggley. I usually told Dad everything. But I couldn’t tell him that I was off to secure myself a backup father. He might not let me go.

And also, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him like that.

When I got to the bus stop I was surprised to see that Ben was already there. The bus wasn’t due for another half hour.

“Becky wanted me to join in with some family mindful meditation yoga thing. I had to get out of there,” he explained. “She made Dad wear this Lycra outfit.”

I pulled a face. Trust me, you don’t want to see Ben’s dad in stretchy material.

“I know, right? It was practically a leotard. When he dropped into this low squat pose, I left.”

It was a good move on Ben’s part. No one should have to witness that.

“They bought it then—that you’re staying at Charlie’s?”

“Oh yeah. Don’t think Dad was listening, to be honest.” Ben looked behind me. “Speaking of Charlie . . .”

Charlie rocked up with a Mars Bar in each hand and his hypoallergenic pillow under one arm.

“Hungry?” Ben asked.

“Storing up before the Anderson clan depart for Camp Stomach Cramp.” By the time the bus arrived, Charlie was two chocolate bars down and we were surrounded by a gaggle of geriatrics from Grams’s book club. I was worried they might be suspicious and ask where we were going, but they were too pumped up about their morning Zumba class to notice us. Then one of them called Doreen recognized me. After that they spent the rest of the journey sighing and looking at me with their sad wrinkly eyes. They all said that Grams was a wonderful person. Doreen was particularly gushing about her and gave us each twenty pence and told us not to spend it all at once. I remembered Grams talking about a Doreen. They’d had an argument in the supermarket over a discounted ham. Grams wasn’t as generous in her comments. I think she’d said something like, “She’d drink tea with the devil, that one.”

When we got to the train station I began to get The Nerves big-time. Dad was at home with only one working leg and no one to fetch him a cup of tea. I didn’t feel like a very responsible son. In fact, I felt like a traitor.

Ben was a bit dismissive when I mentioned this. He said, “Your dad can manage for one night without a cup of tea.” Then he told us to wait by the garbage bins and not wander off while he bought the tickets. He was quite forceful about it. I think he was enjoying being in charge for once. I would have said something, but I sensed it would be a bad idea to upset the money.

Getting onto the correct train passed without incident—apart from Charlie getting stuck in the station gates. He dropped his ticket and got squashed between the automatic barriers. The guard said, “I’ve never seen anyone do that in thirteen years.” Charlie looked a little proud about that.

When the doors to the train closed and we began to chug out of the station, The Nerves came back with renewed force. “Maybe we should get off at the next stop and turn around and go back.”

Ben did not like this idea. He used a very stern voice. “We’re going to Cardiff, Freddie. It’s not all about you.”

I was confused by that, because I’d thought it was. But it turned out that Ben wanted to get away from his family as much as I wanted to find mine.